Out to the ocean, and under the sky
by Rivergirls Anthem
Summary: cause maybe there's another plan.one I still can't see.a little surprise, like your love in my life.[POST 220.] You know I can't stand to see Michael and Sara apart. I had to fix this. So I do. NEW Chapter 4 is finally up!
1. Skylines fading

**A/N: I just saw bits from "Panama"episode. You know how I can't bear to have Michael and Sara seperated, so I'll fix this in my own way: a new fic that will reunite them. Again. **

**Please tell me what you think, and if I should continue with this?**

**XO**

* * *

_I know I'm not alone in this  
Help me believe _

_I can be free  
I can be free from this place  
Beautiful healer  
Beautiful grace  
Help me to see  
Everything fall into place  
Wake me from dreaming  
No more deceiving  
Break these chains_

_(Corrinne May – Free)_

Michael leaned over the side of the ship and let his head fall down between his outstretched hands. He was falling.

Michael Scofield was not, as he had suggested to her, sailing into the sunset – on a freighter – with the woman he loved, but instead saw images of her being cuffed and pushed into the back of a car. Her head was hanging low, just like his was – and the faint trail of a tear showed on her cheek.

He could have held her by now, her head falling back onto his shoulder while they looked at the silhouette of the city growing smaller. Her warmth would be a constant against his chest and he would kiss her hair and smell the perfume of the shampoo she had used at the hotel, not long ago.

He was aware of Lincoln's hand patting his back and swallowed heavily. "We should have gone back."

His brother shook his head determinently. "There was nothing we could have done."

Michael huffed. "That's what they told me when you were in jail, too. There's always something I can do, Lincoln. _Always._" He should have gone back. Should have saved her the way he had Lincoln. She was equally important to him, if not more – but he just left her there.

They both squinted their eyes to gaze into the distance, where the wailing of policecars was fading into silence, similar to the one that had enveloped the pair of them. Lincoln didn't know exactly what to say. He'd never had to console his brother for things like these.

"I thought you'd talked with her, on the phone? Did she say anything?"

Did she say anything? _"I'm on my way up. Love you."_ Did she say something of importance, other than her whisper of love just before she hung up? Sara had told him she loved him. For the first time. 'never to fall in love with an inmate' didn't count...not really.

And it just might be the last time he ever heard her voice. "No..." he sighed, "she just said that she was on her way." Michael took a deep breath. "Even then she must have seen...she sacrificed herself for us again, Lincoln. She let herself get caught so we wouldn't."

Lincoln let out a faint smile. "Wow. She's definitely your kind of girl, Michael..."

Michael nodded, before walking away, leaving Lincoln with a final touch of his hand on his brother's shoulder.

--

Sara sat in the back of agent what's-her-name's car and stared out of the window, her eyes stinging with tears when she noticed the outsides of a freighter – not a sailboat – in the distance. By now he must have discovered her little white lie about being on the boat and walking towards him.

She'd smashed the phone to pieces on the dashboard after her declaration of love to him. She knew what it had meant, those two words that she had spoken in a whisper. It went beyond small offerings of love in a bathroom, 'me too's in front of cigarclubs and grouphugs between the three of them. _I love you both_ wasn't specific.

_It was real_ came pretty close too, though. Sara turned her head away and stared at the seating in front of her. She took the moment to study the faces of her captors. The woman looked...nice enough. But she would show Sara no mercy. They wouldn't share stories over a cup of coffee or even speak besides accusations and defensive replies.

She missed Michael already. She could have been with him by now...sailing into the sunset together. She leaned her head onto the headrest and fell asleep mere seconds later.

--

He sat on the old, rusty bench with his knees pulled up against his chest when Lincoln found him. His chin was resting in the fold between his two legs and his arms were keeping himself together. His big brother sat down next to him and kept silent, knowing that it was probably what he needed most of all: the silence, but a pilar of strength next to him in case he needed it.

Michael had always been his, ever since they were kids. Michael was the reason Lincoln needed to keep out of trouble, he was the reason Lincoln needed to survive. There reasons had been building up over the years, when Veronica came, and his son, but Michael had always been there, to keep him standing tall.

"My faith is burning up, Lincoln."

His voice sounded soft and broken. Lincoln looked at him out of the corner of his eye, before turning back to stare at the horizon. Too much attention would get to Michael and make him even more...whatever he was right now. "I know."

"Sara was..." Michael fell silent right for awhile. Saying her name and adding a past tense to it hurt like nothing ever before. A sharp pain cut through his whole body, but he inhaled sharply and straightened himself. Even if she wasn't here to see him – he needed to be strong for her. He would be strong for her...and he would do everything he could to make sure she came back to him.

"Sara was never supposed to get hurt, you know?" He exhaled heavily. "She's the person you want to keep forever and shelter from all harm. And I failed in doing that..."

Lincoln opened his mouth to intervene."Michael..."

But his brother held up a hand to silence him. "Please. Don't say anything, okay...don't comfort me. Don't say it's not my fault. As much as I love you...there are only two people who really know what Sara and I are about." For the first time ever since he had been searching frantically for Sara on the boat, Michael Scofield let out a smile. "It's something...something _real_. It's something that's deep inside the both of us...something that I _will _fight for, Lincoln. I just need a plan."

* * *

_So? What did you think? Should I continue - or not?_

_XO_


	2. Where we're going

**A/N: Hey! I'm back with another chapter... Sorry it took me so long, but I've had a rough week behind me, filled with international trips, final papers and work. But I'm back now!**

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed! So many reviews for the first chapter, wow! Makes my head spin...**

**Can you please do the same for this chapter? I'd really love to know what you think about all of this. Please?**

**XO**

**

* * *

**_And so she woke up_

_Woke up from where she was_

_Lying still_

_Said I gotta do something_

_About where we're going_

_(U2 - Running to stand still)_

Sara woke up and stared at the ceiling of the car she was still in. She had no idea where she was going, but knew that it had to be somewhere out of Chicago – and she knew that that couldn't be a good sign.

The first thought that entered her head, after the musings about her destination, was of Michael. Naturally...

Sara stared out of the window and saw the houses gliding by, their stone bricks glaring at her, defying her. They reminded her of the boat she should have been on, sailing off into the sunset. She wondered where it was right now, and what the two passangers she cared most about were doing. What they were thinking as the hard wind beat against their faces.

"You're awake?!" It sounded more like a question than a declaration. It was as if the woman had expected her never to open her eyes again...it was a quiet suggestion that maybe she shouldn't have.

"Yes." Sara had promised herself to keep on being civil and distinguished, and act like her armor of pretty words and up-class phrases would be enough to protect her from the accusations they would throw at her. It wouldn't be, but she could only try. It was as if she was a little girl again, using the words her daddy had taught her to use at parties when speaking to him – so that nobody would see their broken relationship or notice the pain in her eyes. No one ever had.

"Miss Tancredi, seeing as the case in which you are involved is a matter a national security, you are now being transported to the FBI headquarters in Washington DC. There you will be interrogated on suspicions of the aiding and abetting of fugitives and the endangering of national security." The woman turned around in her seat and gently smiled at Sara. "Do you have anything to add before we get there?"

_Sara eyed the woman carefully and then let her eyes wander towards the doors of the car. Two locks up the front, none in the back. For a moment, she tore her gaze away from the small details and stared back out. Only to come back with full force and slam the woman's face forward with her bound hands. _

_The brakes screamed, making Sara thank the woman's reflexes. But she didn't have the time to voice her gratitude, while the agent's face lay on the steering wheel and the time was ticking. Her feet had just enough strength in them to move her to the front seat and Sara fumbled with the lock, her ragged breathing the only sound in the car. She cast worried glances behind her, but the woman did even twitch. _

_When the fresh air hit her face, it was a feeling of liberation that she had never felt before. She inhaled deeply and smiled a little, before stumbling forward...and falling when the foot connected with her knees and eventually came to rest against her back. Her face bled from the sudden contact with the pavement, and she felt the metallic taste of her own blood trickling into her mouth. Opening her eyes to little slits, she saw the agent's silhouette painted against the shrill light._

"_I said..."the woman repeated, "Do you have anything to add before we get there?"_

_Attempt at escape one: failed. _

She eyed the woman carefully and shook her head. "No."

* * *

Michael stared out into the distance and frowned at the horizon, even though it held no mystery to him. He knew exactly where they were going, at what time they would arrive, and what to do when he got there. What he was still figuring out, was how to get back where he came from and rescue the woman who had come to mean everything to him. 

He thought of the Christina Rose and of how to use her to get to Sara. A small smile slipped out. His mother would finally meet the woman he loves. Well, the boat named after her, anyway.

She would have liked Sara. Michael hadn't had the chance to spend a lot of time with his mother, but one thing he knew of Christina Rose was that the woman would have loved Sara. Three minutes after starting up a conversation with her, his mother would nod almost unnoticeably at Michael and give him a small smile. Next, she would insist on Sara staying for dinner and make plans with her for the next week.

Where would they have taken her? Not Chicago...it would be too obvious. If there was anything Alexander Mahone (who, no doubt, was the brains behind this whole thing) wasn't, it was obvious. Alex always found a way to challenge Michael.

But Chicago was a good place to start looking for her. He would start there and then follow the signs.

_(Three days later.)_

The minute his feet stepped on Panamasoil, he didn't feel the thrill he had supposed he would feel. The thrill Lincoln obviously _did_ feel. His brother's face was open and smiling, unreserved as to who saw his happiness. Michael gently patted his brother on the upperarm in congratulations and forced out a smile.

Whatever Michael did, whatever he saw...he couldn't shrug the feeling that she was missing from this picture. Panama didn't bring his salvation if she wasn't right there beside him. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. A shiver ran down his back.

Something was wrong.

* * *

He slammed the cup of coffee down onto the plastic table. The hot liquid seeped through the lid, but he didn't seem to care. She stared at the brown tear slowly rolling down the white and gave a small smile. Three days, and he hadn't been able to break her yet. 

Next to them, a sugar-glazed donut lay. It had been there ever since the interrogation had started, a long time ago, to make good on his promise to _'get her a donut...get her a dozen donuts!'_. It was also, she supposed, a sign he used to make it clear to her who was in charge between these four walls.

They'd fed her. They'd given her something to drink and a bed to sleep in. It was all she needed, really. There was nothing else in the material world that they could give to her.

They'd screamed. They'd spoken hard accusations, and she had answered them politely. Alexander Mahone had lost his nerve plenty in the last few days and today was no different. But this would be the first time he would physically harm her.

His hand struck her face hard. One time, two times, three times, four times...Her skin cracked underneath his fingers and she gasped quietly when his nail scraped her cheek. In the distance, she heard the door being opened and two agents running in and holding Mahone back. The tears clouded her vision, but she could only just distinguish the woman who had transported her here.

"Alex..." she heard her say, "calm down."

_Her body was raging with anger, but his strong arms and warmth made it soften and eventually fade away. The bitterness in her mouth remained, but the mere fact that he was here for her, keeping her from doing something she would later label 'incredibly stupid and un-Sara-like', seemed to make it all okay. "Settle down," he had whispered next to her ear, and she had. _

Mahone was removed from the chamber and the woman took place in front of Sara. "We're terribly sorry about that, Miss Tancredi. I promise you that Agent Mahone will be removed from this case. In fact, me and the other associates have been talking about this for a while now, and we feel that it would be in the best interest to handle this case differently." She gave Sara a polite nod, removed her cellphone from her pocket and dialed.

"Okay. Bring it in now..."

* * *

_So? What did you think? Hope I didn't let you down...Please tell me?_

_XO_


	3. Gogong

**A/N: Hey you guys! Remember this story? It's been a while, huh? But hey - looks like I'm on an 'update'roll here, so I thought, why not add to this baby...**

**Please tell me what you think?**

**XO**

_

* * *

How quickly can you get here  
Don't know where I am dear,  
Finally the world actually seems to be revolving around me._

_( Jay Brannan - Soda Shop)_

Of all the comforting words Sara had expected to get from agent what's-her-name, 'bring it in now' wasn't one of them. Fear gripped her. Unthinkable scenarios of bloodhounds sniffing her anxiety and torturing devices clasped around her shot through her. Nothing was impossible when it came to these people.

Maybe what they brought in was even worse, maybe it wasn't. Whatever it would do to her, the machine looked threatening and Sara hurriedly licked the small drop of sweat off of her bottomlip, tasting the salty flavor on her tongue.

"There is no need to worry, Miss Tancredi." _Right. Of course not – it was only rational thinking that told Sara that they had brought in this device to send little shockwaves of pleasure through her body, fill her up with a warmth previously caused by Michael's arms around her body, holding her close... _She took a deep breath. Sara needed to be strong – for Michael.

Would he have reached his destination by now? Breate in the warmth of the sun upon the ocean and feel the quiet humm in the air, telling him that he made it? Her eyes drifted towards the clock, hanging in front of her, ticking her time away. _Yes,_ she closed her eyes and let out a soft smile_, he was safe._

The agent gently took her arm, but Sara – flinching at the mere contact of a stranger's hand on her skin, shrugged it off and offered her arm herself. It was something that she supposed had come with being a doctor. It was okay to touch other people's flesh, as long as her patients stayed clear of hers. To touch, but not be touched.

"I'll give it to you myself."

A short nod answered her, and a quiet look asking her if it was okay to pull the straps around her upperarm and around her hand, twirling between her fingers. Flashes of _"The Recruit"_ passed in Sara's mind, and she rolled her eyes in realisation.

A lie-detector. Great.

--

Michael walked out on deck, greeting his brother with a slap on the back. "How are you doing, Linc?"

The other man threw his head into his neck and smiled blisfully into the sunlight. "I'm _great_, Michael. Yourself?"

He shrugged. "I could do better, you know.."

"Anything on her arrest?"

Michael sighed loudly. "Nope." He stared into the distance and wiped his mouth after taking a swig from the bottle of beer he had brought out. "I'm going back for her, Lincoln.."

Lincoln turned to him, alarmed. "Honestly – I'm not sure if that's the brightest plan you've ever had, bro."

"Maybe you're right. I don't have the plans of wherever she might be tattooed on my body – I don't even have a gun or anything of the kind. I don't have any pions in this little game I'm about to play, alright? But I'll win it." He smiled openly at his brother. "I'm going to find her."

"I'll go with you."

"No."

"Michael –" He started to protest. No way was he going to let his little brother go out there on his own, wearing an invisible sign screaming ' I'm looking to get killed ' on his back. No, Lincoln would go with him. Never mind the whining and fighting there would no doubt be, from both sides.

Michael shook his head determinently. "Lincoln, I've done all of this for you, okay?" He explained. "I went to prison for you, got out of prison for you and ran until my legs were numb. If you go with me now, and you get caught, what you're really doing is just...spitting on everything I've done." He raised his arms and put them on his brother's shoulders, making eyecontact to get the message through to him.

"I need you to be safe. Just like I need her to be. And I can't take care of the both of you." He sighed, the pain in his chest threatening to take him over. "Look what happened the last time I tried to do that." He could still hear the policesirens wailing in the distance, mere minutes after she'd told him she loved him. Michael roughly shook his head again to clear it of those thoughts. He couldn't fall apart, not when he needed to show his big brother that he could handle himself.

Lincoln still looked unconvinced, so Michael tried to claw at the last straws he had. "Call LJ – see if he can come down here. I want to be a family again, Lincoln. But we can't do that as long as you threaten to come with me."

_Okay – that didn't make any sense. Did it?_ "Please."

Finally, an eyeroll sealed the deal. "You call me every day at seven pm. If I don't hear from you, I will come after you and drag your genius butt down here so quickly, you won't know what hit you."

Michael hugged his brother tightly. "Thanks, Ma."

Lincoln huffed. "I wonder what she would have thought of all this."

"She would have been damn proud of us." His eyes twinkled, partly with memories of his mother, partly because of tears for the nearing goodbye.

Suddenly, he remembered something. He grinned at Lincoln.

"Hey, Linc? I'm gonna need the boat."

"Damn bloody parasite, robbing the pants off of your butt if you're not careful." Lincoln grumbled.

But Michael knew it was out of love.

--

"Did you leave the door open the prisoners on the night of the escape?"

"Yes."

The man they had appointed to 'handle' her results of the lie-detector nodded softly at the agent, something he had been doing after every answer she had given to their questions. _True._

"Do you have a sexual relationship with Scofield?"

"No."

Another nod.

"But you had feelings for him?"

"Yes."

_Have._

Her heartbeat had not pointed out to anything unusual, so either Sara Tancredi was speaking the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me god, or she was very much in control of the pumping of her vital organ. One of 'em.

"Sara, I'm going to ask you this once. And only once. If you answer this question the way you know we want you to – all charges against you will be dropped immediately." The agent took a breath and gave her a weak smile. "I'm a woman too, Sara. And I have known love, the greatest I ever thought imagineable. But, like you eventually will experience too, that love ended."

She paused. "Life is not meant to be lived for other people's sake, Sara. You need to find your own way, and try to overcome as many obstacles as you possibly can."

"Do you know where Michael and Lincoln are right now?"

The pen eagerly scratched her heartbeat onto the paper...

* * *

_Cliffy! Been a long while since I've had one of them sweethearts. _

_Could you please review and tell me you haven't forgotten about this one? And if you like and want me to continue?_

_XO_


	4. Wires

**A/N : Whoa! I know you guys, I know it's been ages since I updated this one. I just got inspired tonight. **

**Please tell me that you don't hate it?**

* * *

"No."

The female agent looked hopefully at the translator; hoping for something to finally be able to nail the strong woman who was sitting directly in front of her. But the man sighed and nodded. _True._

The glass mirror next to them shook through a heavy blow being delivered to it. Agent Lang closed her eyes briefly and held in the choked breath that was forcing its way out. _So Alex knew._

She looked at her captive and leaned in, her eyes scanning Sara's. "Miss Tancredi, I don't know how you did this, but for some reason you lied to _that _machine. I know a lot of people who aren't going to be happy with that decision you made. Or other decisions you might have made in the past..." She pulled out a folder and threw it down before Sara. Her calm eyes scanned it, before the monitor started beeping loudly.

The translator grinned. "Congratulations..._now_ she's nervous."

---

The boat split a wave in two while she headed for the horizon. Michael had made sure his brother had a place to stay and money to buy food and booze, before hugging him and sailing off into the sunset.

Panama to Chicago without all the stops the freighter had had to make : a day and a half, provided he never stopped going, not even for a minute or two. He wasn't worried – he'd gone without sleep for longer. And he could feel the blood pumping through his veins, the way it always did when he had a clear purpose.

He wondered if they had gotten things out of her already, but he doubted it. Although, sometimes he wasn't sure. He knew that he loved Sara and that she loved him, but honestly, he didn't know how long she could go on with whatever they were doing to her.

Which reminded him that he didn't have the faintest clue on where she was. He supposed that they were out of Chicago, which left the FBI headquarters or some dark greasy silo. He guessed (and hoped) that it was the first. She had been caught, probably by Mahone too, but if it were _only_ him, there wouldn't have been sirens. Alex had a way of letting people disappear, but it's hard to do that when there are policemen and sirens cornering you. No, Alex would have had to transport Sara to a public place.

Chicago to Washington: one day. Provided he could steal a car. Or a train. Whichever he came across first.

---

"Miss Tancredi, I'll ask you again. Do you know where Michael and Lincoln are right now?"

_Don't do this, don't do this. You can't._ "No."

The machine kept on beeping wildly and her heartbeat was scrached firmly onto the sheet. The translator winked.

"Well," agent Lang started, "it seems that we have all we needed to, Sara. Thank you for cooperating with us. It's been a pleasure. Now, I don't suppose you care to elaborate your answer?"

Sara spit on the folder in front of her and glared at the agent. _So much for sharing stories over a cup of coffee._ "Go to hell."

The agent grinned. "Suit yourself. Now, here's what's going to happen : you'll be charged with treason of your country and committing crimes against the government. On top of that, there's the aiding and abetting that you did when you left that door open. I think it's fair to say that you won't be out before your forty. But I'm getting ahead of myself." She leaned back in the chair and folded her hands on her stomach. She eyed the donut that lay right next to Sara and took it, devouring it in front of her eyes.

"You'll be placed into a half-way house to prison. And don't kid yourself on escaping either. It's maximum security, where the only thing harder than the beds are the guards. But by all means," she smiled, "have fun, sweetie."

She stood up and exited the room, followed by a widely-smiling translator, who was triumphantically waving the sheet around. Sara wanted to destroy him – and her, too.

She couldn't take her eyes off of the picture that lay in front of her. The lie that she had fought all these years when she was working. It tore her apart.

One of the worst things of it all was that the boy had been treated in _her _hospital, where she had only just stolen drugs from the supplyroom without anyone noticing. She'd smiled when she had given her contraband to her sleazy – parasite – boyfriend of the month, and he had kissed her without passion, but filled with excitement over the goodies he'd received.

"_Thanks, babe."_

And then she'd heard the screaming of brakes, followed by the desperate crying of a woman begging for help while she cradled his body. When she saw the hospitaltag, the woman went crazy with hope and despair. Sara couldn't help him. In her drugfilled daze, she did nothing while he was bleeding to death in front of her.

_William._

Later, she had gone to the hospital and found his file. She took it with her to the supplyroom, where she cried and cried over his death and her obsession. His parents names had haunted her for months.

She could never look Pope directly in the eye without feeling the guilt wash over her. He didn't even know and treated her like his own daughter. What kind of a surrogate-daughter let her brother die on the pavement?

She was scared that he'd find out. She was scared that she wouldn't ever see him, or Michael, again.

But after that day in the supplyroom, when she cradled his file to her chest, she'd overcome her obsession.

---

(2 days later)

_Dear__ Michael, _

She paused and stole a quick glance at the bunk below her, where her cellmate was snoring loudly. This was the only time of day that she had to herself, without having to fear the snide remarks or balled fists of her cellmate, who looked like she had been married to her benchpress. Sara trailed her tongue past her lower lip and winced. The wound hadn't healed yet.

_I'm writing you a letter that you are never going to get and that I will shred to pieces come morning and flush down the toilet before Sodium wakes up and gets a hold of it. She looks a bit like 'Brad Bellick meets Theodore Bagwell' – I know you must understand what I mean. _

_I'm as good as expected. This 'halfway house' is driving me insane, but the thoughts of you are what keep me going. I just wish I'd waited a few more seconds before I'd hung up that day, and listened to your reply on my statement. I love you, and I know you love me too, but I just wish that I could have heard your voice tell me that. _

_They framed me, Michael. Put a liedetector on my arm and showed me the one thing in my life I am the least proud of, before asking me questions about you. I didn't tell them anything, but my heartbeat gave them enough evidence to lock me up._

_Maybe I'll see you when I'm forty. Do you remember when you asked me to wait for you? I'm shouldn't hope that you will do the same for me, but I do. I know that 10 years is a long time, Michael. I love you, but I don't think I would blame you if you didn't._

_Just don't tell me._

_Sara._

Sodium woke up to the sound of a toilet flushing. She opened her eyes and glared at Sara.

This didn't look promising.

* * *

_So? What did you think? Did you like it? Please tell me??_

_XO_


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